


Spoopy Milk🎃

by SinnimonMilk



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breastfeeding, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnimonMilk/pseuds/SinnimonMilk
Summary: 🤍🥛🤍🥛🤍🥛🤍
Relationships: Original Female Character/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Spoopy Milk🎃

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuggleBorn92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuggleBorn92/gifts).



You can admit that this might now that this might not have been your very best idea. It had seemed perfect- like the perfect plan even, but who knew that by take your girlfriend to a haunted house you'd end up being the on needing saving.

Still, though. You swear it was a good idea at the time. After all which one of you was the horror movie champ? The one that never got scared of even the spookiest stories, the one that reveled in Halloween festivities. That’s right, YOU were. Your sweet, adorable girlfriend couldn’t handle a spook for the life of her, and would cry at the drop of a hat if anything so much as made her jump--

Well, that was what you thought.

So, when you offered to take her to the scariest haunted house attraction in your home town you figured it'd be a good way to show off your bravery and sweep her off her feet. You were more than delighted when she gave you the shy but eager OK. The date was even set for Friday the thirteenth!

They nailed the atmosphere, and as you pulled into the parking you could see your girlfriend tense and pale at the site of the enormous grim looking building, looking so tall that It could topple at any moment- decked in ghoulish and ghostly décor. There were many people, some in costumes and some not, milling around the front, waiting for the attraction to open.

You sit back in your car seat, looking at your girlfriend and taking her hand, she’s decided to wear a costume today, and you'd be lying if you said she didn’t make an absolution vision. Dressed in voluminous but tattered skirts and ruffles she looked the part of a beauteous gothic bride, a sultry one two if the low chest line was a hint- it gave her tits more than a bit of a push up and showcased the smooth skin around her breasts just before the nipple. Noticing your less than polite stare she blushes, playing with the gauzy but elegant veil and nibbling her lower lip. You, however, played the part of her groom, in a dapper but just uncanny suit.

You slid from the car, going around to help your partner step from the vehicle and trying to appear as suave and romantic as possible (her giggles told you that you weren’t so effective though). You eyed her as she stood, slightly worried about the length of her dress- her tripping would be rather disastrous.

You link arms with her, and grin as she fits perfectly into your side. You’d like to think the two of you made the perfect couple to outside eyes. You talked to the haunted house staff and signed the wavers, and chatted some with other people and groups looking for some Halloween fun; but as you neared the haunted abode, you can feel your girlfriends grip on your arm tighten- she's stiffer at your side than before and there’s a tiny tremble to her hands. Looking down at her you can see the grit in her jaw as she braced for spooks.

(in hindsight, manufacturing a plan to scare your girlfriend in kind of mean isn’t it)

When the two of you got inside it was...a different world really, and you thought not for the first time that they nailed the atmosphere. It’s was grim and held a strange kind of muteness, as if you stepped back into some scary flick from the 1950’s. Paired with the chilling silence it was perfect. You gave your girl a broad smile, nodding to go forward. She already looked ready to bawl, but nodded rapidly and let you tug her deeper into the hall. The house had a series of long elegant hallways and more than a few suspiciously attentive portraits, all to which set your girlfriend rather on edge as she attempted to meld into your side and hide in the folds of your skin—all the same, not a tear marked her cheek as she clutched your hand in a death grip.

When you toured the dining room, she broke. It was an opulent looking room, full of tasteful old timey knickknacks, a long table covered by an eerily lit candelabra and a thick spiderweb like table cloth, it featured three spindly looked chairs (like they've hopped from a Tim Burton movie). You peered closer, tugging your girlfriend along to examine the setup; the two of you spot a man slumped over into a bowl of soup near the shadowy part of the room that the candle light doesn't extend to. Your girlfriend lets out a small squeak as her face turns ashen at the implication, you however- are undeterred.

You reach out, and tug the man upright, and are surprised to have found it rather easy—until you realize that while the man sits uptight his head is still in the soup, and not on his neck. Bless her brave heart but your lover tumbles to her knees with a strangled squeal. She hugs close to your leg as she tries to hide her face. You're both worried for her and impressed by this haunted house production value. You turn away from the body, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her to her unsteady feet, listening closely you can hear her whispering, “Homehomehomehome...”, as she curls into sobbing. You nod, her well being meaning more to you than some good spooks.

It’s perfect really, you’ll have ample opportunity to ‘comfort’ her at home. So, with that you hold her close, going forward to seek out the entrance or exit (whatever is closer).

You were, sadly, subjected to a few more spooks while you tried to find a way out. From creepy children to strategically placed manikins—your girlfriend was a warbling mess by the time you heard voices signaling another group. You gave her a squeeze as you reassured her that it was nearly over.

Until you heard a chainsaw.

The sound startled you, and as you whirled around with a small shriek you could see the silhouette of a large, stout man. He held a vaguely red chainsaw over his head, the weapon abuzz and rearing to go. You stumbled back, crushing your girlfriend to your side as the man came sprinting down the hall, the loudest most deranged laugh spilling from the featureless mask wrapped around his face. You panicked, and with a scream pulled your girlfriend into an evading streak.

The two of you ran, dodging other props and people as you sought to get away from your chainsaw pursuer; going down hallways and making sharp turns at breakneck speed. Figures that you would hear voices much closer when the other shoe dropped: your girlfriend trips on her dress, and as she tumbles, she pulls you down with her--

Only she managed to be just clear of the stair case to the main floor. You weren’t so lucky, and took a nasty fall down the stairs, Spilling painfully onto the main floor In front of dozens of guests and event employees.

It was silent.

Fuck. With this painfully awkward silence whatever fear you harbored dwindled away—all your plans were ruined, your hips smarted, and you looked like a right fool—your ashamed to admit you started crying right on the spot. Sitting there on the ground, In front of dozens of people, you sobbed like a child. Even though your well past that age, you bawled grossly In front of all those people--

Your girlfriends warm embrace did not sooth you, but it helped. Her comforting smell filled your nose as she came running down the stairs, a look of worry on her pretty (beautiful) face. She trembled herself even as she tried to hold you—you realized that you fucking loved this girl, so dammed much.

The two of you were escorted out the haunted house, and after you were given some small first aid (you scraped your knee), your girlfriend took one look at you and decided she would be the one to drive the two of you home. You didn’t fight her; you could do no more than crawl into the backseat at cry as you waited to arrive to the safety of your shared apartment.

She had to help you upstairs, as you heaved with snotty tears and your legs knocked and wobbled, she pulled you into the apartment. You were immediately much more at ease in your own home, and didn’t hesitate to hug close to her, inhaling her flowery fragrance and pressing a kiss to her hair, seeking comfort that she immediately returned. She pulled you over to the couch and sat you across her thighs, cradling you and carding a hand through your hair.

She hummed a soft tune as you both waited for the shudders to stop. You soon sat placid on her lap; you head on her shoulder as you took in the faintly milky scent of her ample bosom. You kissed her cheek, reaching up to fondle her soft creme chest as you played with her tits. She shushed you, patting your back as you calmed down. She spoke softly and slowly;

“Ok, tonight was really stressful right babe? So why don’t we unwind with a nice hot bubble bath?” she offered, stroking small circles into the center if your spine. You nod, kissing a tiny trail around her ear and at the crux of her jaw. She gives a pleased shiver.

She tells you that she’ll call you when the bath is ready, and slides you onto the couch and off her lap before leaving to the bathroom. You relax bonelessly into the couch, feeling on a little cloudy at the way you embarrassed yourself tonight In front of your super cool and brave girlfriend. You cover your eyes as tears start to spill again. Shame clawing at your chest, you don’t deserve her at all...

At some point during your down time, you fell asleep, only being awoken thirty minutes later by the soothing voice of your significant other. She’s bent over you, having just shaken you awake. She gives you a soft and welcoming smile, whispering “Bath time.” to you in a sing song voice.

It takes you a second to shake away the sleep, leaving you with a warm fuzzy headspace as she helps you to your feet. Her arm is securely around your waist as she pulls you into the warm, steamy bathroom. You moan at the site of your large marble bath tub, filled with warm water and plush foamy bubbles. It smells like roses.

She takes the lead and you happily let her, as she stripes you of your dapper costume and discards it to the floor, leaving you nude before her eyes. She gives a warm appreciative smile, and plants an amorous smile on your lips before ushering you into the tub. Where you sink happily into the hot water, you watch her unabashed as she stripes herself of her beautiful dress.

Your girlfriend is fucking hot. A healthy layer of fat pushes her figure into a sexy plumpness, with just enough jiggle to her thighs and just enough softness to her DD tits and smooth tummy. Her figure is fecund and titillating, like a fertility goddess in the making. Her chest is heavy and leaking, beads of sweet milk rolling off her perky nips. Your mouth is dry at the site of it.

When she slips into the tub behind you, she pulls you back into her lap, your back is cradled by har legs as she rests your head on her bountiful breasts, the smell of milk filling your sensitive nostrils. She washes you, giving you a gentle scrub down your body and being sure to linger around your genitals; she lathers your hair and massages you into a boneless heap in her lap. As you moan and groan at her attentive affection you turn to paw at her delicious tits, fondling the twin milk tanks and giving her milky nipples small licks and kisses. You peer up at her through your lashes and suck her hardened nub into your mouth, swallowing a jet of milk as it squirts out suddenly. She gives a throaty whine as you suck harder, hallowing your cheeks as coaxing out more warm milk.

She presses you closer, carding her fingers through your hair and massaging you scalp. She hums a soft tune as you nibble and bite her titties, squeezing and kneading them so that more milk pours out, you don’t stop until your belly is full and you girlfriend gives a full body shudder, the muscle in her thighs bunching as she cums quietly in the tub.

As she slumps and relaxes you hazily decide that while the trick didn’t work out-this treat was still more than worth it.


End file.
